


If We Fall

by lately (aeggyu)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Body Paint, Character Death, Fantasy, M/M, Paint Kink, Sea Monsters, Sex, Tragedy, Weird Biology, i mean it's weird but nothing cringe-worthy i hope, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeggyu/pseuds/lately
Summary: this was veeeeeery loosely based on a short story by gabriel garcía marquez, called "the handsomest drowned man in the world." you don't need to read it to understand this, i promise.ALSO! this has been crossposted completely unaltered from aff. if you see a typo please tell me bc i didn't re-read it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was veeeeeery loosely based on a short story by gabriel garcía marquez, called "the handsomest drowned man in the world." you don't need to read it to understand this, i promise.
> 
> ALSO! this has been crossposted completely unaltered from aff. if you see a typo please tell me bc i didn't re-read it.

There's a body coming from the high seas with peaceful movements, rocking with the waves. People has heard about the legend, _the handsomest drowned man in the world._  
  
Woohyun meets him on a cool afternoon.  
  
The kids, with heavy bags full of necklaces made of shells to sell and dry skin peeling off his cheeks, are the first ones to see him. They yell at Woohyun from the beach to rescue the man floating on the sea, since he's the closest boat. At their words, both excited and frightened, the man hurries to dive into the water and pull the other with him.  
  
The body is heavy and cold, that's the first thing he notices. When he's back at the shore, surrounded by the kids and curious tourists, he notices more things. The man—stiff with death—has thin, pale blue lips. Faded orange coral covers his entire body, except for some parts on his face, like the cheekbones. A life-sized reef. His hair is a mess of mud and seaweeds; short, tangled and three shades darker than it probably is. His closed eyes divide him from the beach, from the world.  
  
And he's beautiful.  
  
"So handsome," one of the girls who braids hair mutters. Woohyun sees from the corner of his eye the other girls agreeing with her with whispers and nods.  
  
"He was young, too" other person mumbles. Next to them, the tourists start speaking in a language he doesn't understand.  
  
The atmosphere acquires a somber tone with secrets and pity dripping from the spoken (and unspoken) words. Woohyun takes a moment from observing the drowned man's face to look up and scan the small crowd around him. One of the older boys has told another to go tell the elders, and fishermen coming back from their boats approach with wondering steps.  
  
The handsome drowned man looks even more distant when Woohyun looks back down at him. He's out-of-place, like the new train station next to the old temple on the outskirts of the town. Or maybe it's the opposite. Everything is out-of-place except him. Inconsequential. Suddenly, Woohyun wonders what would happen if they—the drowned man and him—were the only ones there.  
  
But alas, they're not.  
  
The ruckus around them still continues. Tourists take pictures with those devices they call _cameras_ and later wander off, disinterested. The locals, though, stay. Girls talk about the handsomeness of the drowned man and kids jump around here and there. The fishermen talk too, but their words are less dreamy, less excited. _How long has he been dead. He must be from a near village. He looks too pale to be a local. He might have been a tourist._  
  
Woohyun tries to drown the sounds and focus on the dead man. Unfortunately, the elders come and take the lead, deciding someone so handsome like him deserves to be send off with dignity. Some men wander off to look for a table to put him. Meanwhile, the girls busy themselves with cleaning his face and scraping off the crusts and coral from him.  
  
Somewhere between the elders speaking blessings about him and the kids bringing new clothes from the weavers on the local market, the man starts twitching. His movements are not convulsive, though. Woohyun, who's watching everything unfold before his eyes, watches the man's hand clench and unclench in a fist.  
  
At first he believes it's his imagination, but the following curl of the man's toes confirms he's moving. The fisherman looks up from the dead man to see if someone else has noticed. Nothing. In the night illuminated by the torches put around them and the stars, he's the only one who knows about the man's movements.  
  
It doesn't take much for the others to realize, though. It's hard not to, when the man is sitting up, half-naked and translucent against the dim lights. Everyone stops their breathing for a second, only to break in conversations at different volumes again. The girls erupt into screeching about the man's name. _What can it be? Amir, Noah, Esteban, Kibum, Takeru,_ and another thousand he's never heard before. The elders, once again, talk about different things, even though Woohyun only picks up snippets of their conversations. _A miracle. A monster. A blessing. A curse._  
  
Either way, he doesn't pay much attention. And apparently, neither does the (now resuscitated) man. He looks around, frightened, until his eyes (small and curious, traced by charcoal one of the girls has put around them) settle on Woohyun and relief washes over his face. He opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes from it. When the man realizes that, he shakes his head with a soft movement and motions him to come closer.  
  
Woohyun obeys, crawling towards him with wariness. When he's close enough, the man starts writing on the sand with his coral-covered finger. A question: _who are you?_  
  
"A fisherman," Woohyun breathes after reading the words. The people around them seem not to notice, as their conversations keep the same intensity as before. "And you?"  
  
The man nods, analyzing the answer, and starts writing again. The look on his face is distant as he writes, but determined. Woohyun observes him moving, but doesn't read the words. Instead, he focuses on the person in front of him. Even if the light is faint and they're not close enough, he can see the rise and fall of the man's naked chest. So he's alive.  
  
The fisherman realizes he's been staring too much at the figure when the man moves again and their eyes meet, curious against confused. There's something missing in them, powerful and dark like the sea at midnight. At the end, the man gives him a thin smile and points down to his writing. Woohyun follows his movements, disappointed with the loss of eye contact. He reads the words and realizes there couldn't be a more fitting name.  
  


_Sunggyu_.  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
Despite the elders claims it was a blessing the man was alive, and Woohyun's relief, things don't go as smooth as planned—even though there's nothing planned. Sunggyu is: 1) mute by the apparent lack of use of his vocal chords and most importantly, 2) dead. He also decides to stick to Woohyun. _The_ _savior_. The fisherman tries not to mind, though, but it's strange enough to keep him wary of the blue lips and pale skin of the drowned man.  
  
"Why do you breathe then?" Woohyun finds himself asking one day, while he's taking the net full of fishes out of the water. He's had to do that twice that morning, after Sunggyu thought it wasn't good the fishes died and decided to free them.  
  
The man, wearing more casual clothes (clothes _borrowed_ from him) and red-frammed, dark glasses, looks at him from the border of the boat where he's precariously sitting. Then, Sunggyu shows him the notebook he's been given to communicate.  
  
_out of habit_ , it says. Woohyun looks at him with skepticism, raising an eyebrow, but Sunggyu's smile is enigmatic and his eyes unreadable from the sunglasses he's stolen from his father's studio.  
  
"Does your heart beat out of habit, too?" The dead man furrows his eyebrows in annoyance and pouts, smacking Woohyun with the notebook in the process. The smile on his lips that follows is stiff, but sincere.  
  
The rest of the afternoon is quiet, with Sunggyu doodling on the border of the pages and Woohyun focused on his job. The fisherman tries to talk once in a while to break the silence, earning encouraging nods from the dead man and short replies in the notebook.  
  
_it's because my muscles are stiff,_ Sunggyu explains on the paper. _i'm afraid my fingers will break if i write a lot._ Woohyun nods in understanding—even though he _doesn't_ want to understand anything about body parts breaking—and sits down next to him to start scaling fish. Sunggyu makes a face, but says (writes) nothing about it, and Woohyun continues his lively chatting about the life in the island.  
  
"You should help me carry the coolers when we're done here. I'd appreciate some help."  
  
Sunggyu nods, but doesn't show him the _i can't lift things or one of my limbs will fall off_ he wrote as the response.  
  
(Their afternoon ends with Woohyun carrying the boxes by himself and Sunggyu trailing behind him, a hand clenched against the notebook while the locals scrutinize him and the other firm against the hem of Woohyun's loose shirt.  
  
That night the man climbs to Woohyun's bed and gives him a kiss in the cheek as an apology. Later, his arms wrap around Woohyun's waist. The fisherman has no other option than accepting and falling asleep with Sunggyu's marine scent around him.)  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
Somehow, the boundaries of their relationship become blurry a couple of weeks later. It happens when Sunggyu's been out enough for his lips to acquire a healthy pink instead of the dark blue from before, his skin to become less pale, and his muscles to lose stiffness. His body becomes warm, too. Still, Sunggyu reminds Woohyun not to fool himself; he's still dead.  
  
That day, Sunggyu walks to the kitchen and sits at the table while Woohyun cooks breakfast (for him; Sunggyu doesn't eat), notebook and pen placed in front of him. The fisherman looks at him, wondering what's going on with the baddly-hidden mischievous smile and sits down next to him to eat.  
  
"You look like you found something interesting," he mutters, munching on his breakfast. Sunggyu nods, opening the notebook, but not scribbling anything down yet. He waits for Woohyun to ask, "What was it?"  
  
The drowned man smiles that absent smile of his, and writes down _a canvas_. Woohyun nearly chokes when he reads it, but composes himself when a puzzled expression on the other man's face forms.  
  
"So you were looking around the studio again," Woohyun tries not to sound too frustrated with the man (who tends to behave like a curious kid sometimes). After all, he's not at fault. "It's been a while since I don't enter."  
  
do you paint? Sunggyu writes, excited glint in his eyes. Woohyun shakes his head, nostalgic smile hanging on his own lips without him noticing. It's not a question he'd like to answer, but the surging disappointment on the dead man's face pushes him.  
  
"More like used to." Woohyun stands up and puts the dish on the sink, next to the other dirty ones that are piling up. He does it mostly to busy himself, but also to avoid Sunggyu's eyes that show his thoughts pure and raw. "My father taught me, but I never really continued."  
  
Sunggyu's already on his feet and pushing the notebook against his chest when he turns. can you draw me? paint me?  
  
Woohyun is about to shake his head again, but there's something in Sunggyu's eyes that speak volumes and suddenly he's thinking it's everything about those eyes, those that carry life and show more emotions that anything else he's seen before. Before he realizes, the fisherman is nodding with hesitation and being dragged to the studio he hasn't entered in years.  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
Sunggyu sits on the windowsill to pose, eyes lost on the waves hitting the shore on a rainy day seen through the dirty glass. Woohyun watches him while finishes the sketching, noticing how the man looks lifeless. His knees are pressed against his chest and his hands interlaced around them. He's not breathing this time. Sunggyu's distant look, the same he saw back that day when he dragged him from the sea (and his eyes were closed and his face as beautiful as ever) is back again. Woohyun looks down at the rough, sketchy lines on the marred canvas, and thinks his drawing doesn't do justice.  
  
When he looks back up again, though, the fisherman is surprised to find Sunggyu already stalking towards him with soundless steps. His face is anxious this time. He takes place next to Woohyun and observes him erase and finish up the line of the windowsill. In the canvas, Sunggyu is placed on the center, surrounded by an empty space that looks like nothing can fill it. He's about to erase it and start again, maybe giving more focus to the window and the sea. Freedom. But then Sunggyu places his hand atop him and he's warm, and he's cold.  
  
Woohyun looks at him, without words, and Sunggyu does the same. Except that he tries, though. His lips move in a soundless gasp that, if Woohyun can read lips well, says _beautiful_. (If he notices carefully, it says more than that. It says thousands of things they would like to say to each other but can't. Not with words.) While he doesn't agree with it, the way the man mouths the word makes him feel like he could say yes to everything and nothing could go wrong.  
  
He's midway thinking how would those lips feel against his when Woohyun finds himself already standing in front of Sunggyu, with hands around the waist, mouths centimeters apart, and that humid scent that belongs to the sea and only the sea filling his lungs. His eyes flicker from the amaranth pink lips to those changing eyes, looking for any sort of response—positive, hopefully. His surprise increases when he finds them wide open, like a window that leads to the sea in a warm, summer morning. He finds them clear.  
  
At the sudden approval, Woohyun moves forward and pushes his lips against Sunggyu's eager to respond. It's awkward at first, with both of them sticking to each other without pattern and purpose. Neither of them relaxes, which makes the movements mechanical. Sunggyu's lips, as expected, are salty and dry. At this, Woohyun runs his tongue along the lower lip in hopes to make them glide smoothly. It helps, and by the time the fisherman is tracing over Sunggyu's teeth, said man has both hands tangled on Woohyun's jet black hair and presseagainst him with movements akin to desperation.  
  
It escalates from there.  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
It's only when Woohyun has both arms wrapped around his hips and is moving inside him that Sunggyu makes a sound. At first, only the fisherman's low grunts and gasps can be heard, besides the obscene sound that skin against skin produces. Then, Woohyun moves in a particular way, and the sound that leaves the other man's mouth is strained and yet pleased.  
  
Woohyun is so surprised he stops every movement, breath still constructed and body shaking with anticipation. His eyes set on Sunggyu—who doesn't look like he's noticed, with a hand clutched in the pillow and the other running through his own body. But when sound comes again from somewhere on the back of his throat, this time frustrated, the fisherman decides he shouldn't worry about Sunggyu's voice in the middle of something as important as this. Especially not when Sunggyu's eyes flutter open and he gives him a sultry gaze, hand running down, down his own chest and lower.  
  
They kiss again when he restarts. It's messy and again, without a pattern, but this time is different. Sunggyu's hands sneak around Woohyun's neck, and the fisherman wonders if there could be a way they could stay like this together, with Sunggyu lost on his sheets and nothing to worry about but themselves. But then Sunggyu is turning and lying on his stomach, biting the pillow while their bodies push against each other, and Woohyun thinks he shouldn't be thinking at all.  
  
Present, past, and everything else that doesn't revolve around Sunggyu's coral-free skin that feels cool against his sweat-covered one is forgotten. The incomplete canvas lies in the other room, also forgotten, while Sunggyu doesn't make more than faint whimpers and soundless _Woohyun, Woohyun'_ s and the fisherman mutters his name too. Outside, on the rainy afternoon of autumn, the lingering touches, press of lips against lips (and skin and hair), and intensity of their emotions stay as a secret to everyone but them.  
  
~~~  
  
Later, when Woohyun has his back turned against Sunggyu and he's succumbing to sleep, the dead man shakes him out of his slumber with a cool finger pressed against his naked back. At first it seems like a random pattern that lulls the black-haired man back to sleep, but when he focuses in following it, he realizes Sunggyu's trying to form words.  
  
"What," he starts, trying to turn around to look at the dead man—to see the swollen lips and marked skin and try, just try to steal more sounds (kisses) out of him. The hand shoots up to his shoulder and stops him, firm. When Woohyun understands the kind of game the other wants to play and sighs. "Okay, but I can't guarantee I'll understand what you're writing."  
  
After what he feels like a nod, a finger goes back to trace the words. _hey_.  
  
"Yeah?" Woohyun chuckles. Sunggyu doesn't forget to add a dot.  
  
_why don't you paint anymore?_  
  
"I don't have much time for that."  
  
_then why are there art supplies in the studio?_  
  
"My father was an artist." Woohyun sighs again, bitter at the memory. "The studio was his, but we closed it."  
  
_we?_  
  
"My mother and I. We closed it when he died."  
  
Sunggyu doesn't say it (write it), but there's another question hanging in the air. A _what happened?_ that is begging to leave those lips. "He and my uncle—the boat was his, you know? They died when they were going to the city, on a bus. It crashed, I think."  
  
_And her?_ Woohyun knows Sunggyu is going to ask.  
  
He pauses, remembering his mother sitting at the table, staring into the window like Sunggyu was doing moments ago. Her eyes were void and her smile wavering, curling in an attempt to comfort his fifteen-year-old self that didn't know about responsibilities and grief. And then he remembers her again; this time with an indifferent look on her eyes as she watches the waves collide against the cliff where she's standing, to later jump while a teenager Woohyun can't do anything but watch how she slips between his fingers. His eyes are full with unshed tears before he has the time to notice.  
  
and her? Sunggyu asks.  
  
The question mark is so faint Woohyun wonders if it _is_ a question. And her. It sounds like the complement of his past words, like an afterthought. _He and my uncle died. And her._ But then he realizes the poor grammar and chuckles, voice breaking. "I think she died of sadness."  
  
Sunggyu's reply feels wavering against his skin long seconds after, trembling. _i think i died of sadness too._  
  
There's a pause that Woohyun takes to analyze his words. He hears some gasping behind him, a soundless sob. When he tries to turn again—to look at him, to see if he has something to hold on to, to see if dead people can cry—the hand is there again to stop him. _no_ , the finger traces while he's being held with other hand. _not yet_.  
  
A moment where he allows himself to remember his family and let tears escape (how weak; he's never allowed to do this, being fine by himself and now Sunggyu comes and he's reduced to muffled sobs against the pillows—how pathetic) is what Sunggyu takes to draw hearts on his back and later, press his cold lips in the middle. When the fisherman has calmed down enough, and there are no more tears on his eyes, he hears the rustling of fabric against skin and the bed moving next to him. Woohyun turns, encountering Sunggyu's back that is only one tone darker than the sheets.  
  
"What?" His voice sounds strained, weak. "My turn now?"  
  
The man nods all too eagerly, and Woohyun wonders what could he say to him. He thinks there's no way to express the how he's feeling; the beating of his heart, the humidity on the air and heat that sets his skin on fire (just like Sunggyu's pale, exposed flesh does), the loneliness of the house, the emptiness of the studio even though— _because of_ —the incomplete drawing of Sunggyu is there, the fear he feels because Sunggyu will leave too—like everyone has done. He can't express the realization that Sunggyu _is_ dead, after all.  
  
So, instead of tracing words like the other man did, Woohyun stands up and walks back to the studio. He comes back to find Sunggyu in the same place, except that the man is peaking over his shoulder with mild interest. Only know he notices how light the man's hair is. The fisherman puts the paint of different colors next to them, dipping one of the brushes in the blue container. Sunggyu shivers when the tip brushes against his skin, letting out a sharp breath. Woohyun remembers he breathes _out of habit_ and chuckles. Is this out of habit, too?  
  
He's done a couple of hours later, with spirals and curves around his entire body with different colors. Sunggyu ends up straddling him, doing the same. His mouth opens and smile forms, chest constricting as if he were laughing. Against the gray light from the small window on the corner of his room, Sunggyu's face full of tribal traces of red and yellow looks intangible. A man from another world.  
  
(Woohyun ends up pushing Sunggyu back against the bed and climbing on top of him, knocking the paint over. The colored liquid stains the white sheets and spoils the careful traces on their skin, but neither of them care, because Sunggyu's skin _is_ tangible and he's able to make Woohyun forget everything without a word.)  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
Tension starts rising days later, when Sunggyu and Woohyun are closer than ever and the look on their faces gives away everything. The women mutter things between them and the men throw nasty looks at them when they pass. Still, anything of that seem important enough for Woohyun, at least not when Sunggyu sits next to him while he's cleaning the fish and attempt to draw things, or when they lie next to each other on bed tired and spent, long after the world has gone to sleep, breathing each other's scent.  
  
"I think we should stay. They can do whatever they want, don't you think Gyu?" Woohyun turns to face the man, who is sitting on the border of the boat as usual. Sunggyu nods, focused on his notebook. He's not paying attention.  
  
Curious, Woohyun peeks at the notebook over his shoulder. There are several words scribbled down, but all of them are crossed out to the point it's not easy to read.  
  
(I  
  
I am  
  
Hyun I think  
  
I'm  
  
I don't belong  
  
I don't want to  
  
You can)  
  
"What do you think of when you see the sea?" Woohyun decides to change the topic, watching the reflection of the deep blue water on the man's sunglasses. However, it doesn't work when Sunggyu tilts his head in his direction, and later back to the water. There's no sound coming from him, but Woohyun can make the words coming from his lips.  
  
_Home_  
  
"Is everything alright?" he asks, hoping his voice doesn't give away his worry. Sunggyu keeps looking down even after Woohyun sits in front of him and holds the white chin between his fingers. The sunglasses make his face dark and unreadable. Neutral. "Sunggyu?"  
  
At the end, Sunggyu lets out a pained sigh and shakes his head. Biting his lower lip, the dead man writes down something slowly, as if he didn't want to. _hyun, what do you have to lose?_  
  
Woohyun doesn't miss a second to reply right after he reads the question. He watches his reflection open his mouth and say, "Only you" before thinking about it.  
  
_are you sure?_ The fisherman nods, confident with his answer. However, his next words wash over him like cold water. _i'm leaving._  
  
At first, he doesn't understand. Questions arise, each one more destructive than the last one. At the end, Woohyun stands up on impulse with such strenght the boat rocks soflty and Sunggyu's notebook falls from his lap into the sea. Just— _What?_  
  
Sunggyu tries to catch the notebook, but he fails. Switching his gaze from Woohyun to the notebook floating away, the dead man decides. He takes off the glasses, placing them on Woohyun's lap. Then, without meeting eyes any further, he jumps to the water.  
  
"Sunggyu," Woohyun breathes. Then, his voice gains strength and his movements, intensity—like his emotions. " _Sunggyu_. What are you _doing_?"  
  
But Sunggyu doesn't reply. He catches the notebook, but then realizes it's ruined. When their eyes meet again, Sunggyu's are small, scared and regretful. Woohyun sees him and feels like there's no turning point. The feeling increases further when the man—the drowned man; he's dead, why is he in the water, he should be on the shore, safe and sound—stretches his hand for Woohyun to reach, and the fisherman does the same.  
  
"…M-me…"  
  
Without notice, Sunggyu tugs at his hand with such strength Woohyun falls on the water too, splashing it everywhere. The glasses fall, too. The fisherman has no time to recover when he's being pulled down and kissed at the same time, oxygen stolen from his body.  
  
Before realizing, Woohyun is underwater. Everything around him is deep blue. Sunggyu is nowhere to be seen. When he opens his mouth, the last bits of oxygen escape his lungs and forms unreachable bubbles in front of him. He's dying; realization settles on his chest, like an anchor hitting the bottom of the ocean. He's dying and Sunggyu is nowhere to be seen.  
  
Woohyun is closing his eyes, falling into deep slumber out of which he doesn't think he will wake up, when a hand rests on his shoulder and a finger traces a heart on his back. It's soothing, warm (or warmer than the water, than a sunny day) and hypnotic. Sounds come to him in waves, too: The laugh of kids ashore, a song from his childhood he hasn't heard in years, his mother's hearbeat from the uterus, Sunggyu's voice that's drawing him towards the abyss (and Woohyun isn't anything but eager once he understands), and a plea that is implied.  
  
Sunggyu's voice.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
_fall with me._  
  
And he does.  
  


  
~~~  
  


  
There's a body coming from the high seas with peaceful movements, rocking with the waves. People has heard about the legend, _the handsomest drowned man in the world._  
  
Only that this time is different. This time is not one body covered in coral, with crusts and mud and seaweed. No; this time are two the people who are dragged to the shore, heavy and with fingers interlaced—melted under scrapes of dead fish and shells.  
  
There's an abandoned house with the incomplete drawing of a boy gazing at the sea from the windowsill and a bed covered in rainbow-colored painting too. And an implied promise to follow the only thing Sunggyu and Woohyun have, that beats where their now dead heart lies.  
  
(each other)


End file.
